The Golden Silence
This is the story that should not be told
as yet this is being narrated
as it is fresh and not too old
there was silence
its name was golden
and it had the habit of sitting quiet
in a corner and not speaking all right
Silence, quiet and unspeaking
is a coil drawn in like hell
difficult to break and
like in a dirty hard spell
then one day, they came with hammer
and blew him many times
hard and sound, again and again
silence broke and he began to stammer
unclear and staccato
like in truth and falsetto
and then he broke
words came gushing
as if it was a pipe long clogged
dirt and filth came sputtering
in a flow
and they listened in dismay
and got ready to hit him away
yet he was unstoppable
and they wanted now to have him stop
he was spilling all beans
and in many he raised
his fingers
clearly indicating them
they rued the day they had him struck
it was not them but he who had struck
they were stuck
and looked gloomy at the silence
all black and sullied with dirt
about them and others
and did they bother
like hell they were scurried
here and there
trying to make a recovery
falling here and there
they tried to cover
but were as yet bare
they sighed in an exasperated voice wooden
it was far better to leave
the silence golden.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
